


a falling star can't fall forever

by Piyo13



Series: Daemon AU [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, mentions of severe injuries and also depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13/pseuds/Piyo13
Summary: When Vasilisa is nine, she and Victor make a pact. They want to be the very best, and the best skaters don't have their daemons on the ice with them—aren't allowed to, in fact. And to be the best, they'll train on distance in addition to everything else.





	a falling star can't fall forever

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first sidestory in my daemons'verse! it focuses on victor and vasilisa. it's... i mean it's probably a standalone, but i would still recommend reading hollow ground first if you haven't already ^^ title from the pink martini song, "let's never stop falling in love", alexei uramov borrowed from real life.

When Vasilisa is nine, she and Victor make a pact. They've decided—well, their decision had been made a long while ago, when they'd first seen a picture a picture of Alexei Uramov and his daemon, posing together in promotion of an ice show.

"That's what I want to be, mama," Victor had stated, and Iryna had merely smiled and nodded, as one does with kids who have a new dream every week. This time, though, Vasilisa knows there's more to it; she can feel it when she changes forms, now, that whatever she settles as will be a creature for whom snow and cold and ice are _home._

So it's with that knowledge that, when Vasilisa is nine, she and Victor make a pact. They want to be the very best, and the best skaters don't have their daemons on the ice with them—aren't allowed to, in fact. And to be the best, they'll train on distance in addition to everything else.

This is not to say that Vasilisa doesn't enjoy the time she spends on the ice with Victor—she loves it, in fact; she tries out as many forms to do with ice as she can think of. Victor laughs with her when she complains melodramatically about how none of them fit, and always makes sure to beg extra ice time from their coaches.

Extra ice time evolves, gradually, into extra distance training time. This is harder—it makes both of them sweat, and Victor curse internally with frustration. Vasilisa sympathizes.

* * *

When Vasilisa is ten, she and Victor decide unanimously that they have to step it up. They're going to be the best, and that means that they need to get to that level, and quickly.

Victor decides to attempt jumps, and Vasilisa doesn't dissuade him. He goes in for a single flip—one of his favorites, something he can land in his sleep. Victor skates a half a lap to gain momentum, pushing for the far end of the rink—and suddenly Vasilisa feels the sharp yank of their bond being pulled too far, just as Victor pushes off for the jump.

Vasilisa flies over, a swift, but Victor's down and she's too late and he's bleeding and it _hurts—_

"Vassya!"

 

Vasilisa reforms, watches the Dust create her paws, feels the constraints of her new form as it tightens and _settles_ around her, as she thinks _oh, no_ (there's so much blood) and _it's too soon_ (it's steaming on the ice) and _Vitya_ and _oh, thank God, Yakov's he—_

 

Next time Vasilisa wakes, she's in the hospital, shuddering next to Victor's shallowly breathing chest while a nurse's dog daemon gently licks her.

When Vasilisa blinks at her surroundings, the dog gives her a look of pity.

* * *

Vasilisa is eleven by the time Victor's leg is healed enough for him to be allowed on the ice again. The doctors have termed his recovery miraculous, but Vasilisa can feel Victor's resentment at that. Yakov and his parents fret and Victor sulks, even as he throws himself into physical therapy; Vasilisa is also eleven when she makes a chilling discovery.

Before, both she and Victor had felt the same yearning to be on the ice—the form she's been settled in for a year now is proof enough of that—but now, she doesn't feel that compulsion anymore.

Victor still does, Vasilisa can tell through their bond; but Vasilisa herself feels, at best, ambivalent towards the ice. She shields this knowledge from Victor, because she has a hunch, and she doesn't like it.

Her hunch is confirmed a few days later, when she neglects to get on the ice with Victor. He skates, freely and unencumbered, and Vasilisa watches with flattened ears as neither she nor Victor experience even the slightest pang of discomfort.

Victor's joy of skating is bright, though, and Vasilisa doesn't bring it up until later.

"I figured it out, earlier," Victor says in reply.

_Oh,_ says Vasilisa.

* * *

Vasilisa's thirteen when Victor makes his international debut and starts breaking records from the get-go. Vasilisa doesn't like to talk much, so she gets a reputation for being aloof and distant, even with other skaters (she just doesn't know what to say, and her reputation spreads, slowly but surely, to Victor as well).

After their third international competition, as they're laying in the hotel room, Victor fiddling with the gold around his neck, Victor asks:

"Vassya? Do you remember anything from when I—from when you disappeared?"

Vasilisa shakes her head. _No._

"Oh," Victor says. Vasilisa searches her memory, trying to scrounge up anything she can to tell Victor. He sounds so disappointed.

"It was… void. Nonbeing," is what she settles on.

She pretends not to hear the cut-off, half-thought, _I want—_ in Victor's mind, as they turn off the lights and fake going to sleep.

* * *

Vasilisa's fifteen when they get a dog. She isn't sure whose idea it is—their mom, their dad, even Yakov and Lilia are all suspect—but the fact is, for their birthday they get an open box with a puppy inside, a bright red bow tied around its neck. The puppy wags its tail at them and yips, and both Victor and Vasilisa are completely gone.

They name her Makkachin, because it sounds nice, and they love her almost as much as Victor loves the ice.

Sometimes, though—and Vasilisa can tell Victor hates himself for this—sometimes he resents her. There are days when it's hard enough for Victor to take care of himself, let alone someone else, and Makkachin, with her big brown eyes and constant optimism, is definitely someone else. Still, because Victor loves her, he cares for her, and Makkachin in turn provides motivation to get out of bed and a rhythm by which to set their days.

And so they love her, almost as much as Victor loves the ice.

* * *

Vasilisa is sixteen when she and Victor meet Chris for the first time. Chris, despite only being fourteen and still looking at Victor with eyes full of hero-worship, is nonetheless determined to befriend Victor. Chris' daemon, still-unsettled Vreni who flickers through a form a minute, is personable and easy to get along with, and she and Vasilisa are friends almost faster than their humans.

Victor seems reluctant at first, but Chris is persistent; it helps that, both being European, they share not only several competitions, but also the occasional training camp and ice show.

Soon enough, they're calling each other up on days off just to chat—or at least, Chris is, and Victor never stops him—and Vasilisa's thankful. Over the distance between them that their separation has created, she can still tell Victor feels always just the slightest bit happier after interacting with Chris, in a way that only running himself down on the ice or hugging Makkachin seems to otherwise produce.

* * *

Vasilisa's eighteen when it dawns on her that the strange distance between her, Victor, and his emotions _isn't_ due to their separation.

It's one of their rare moments of free time—they spend so much time in training, nowadays; they debuted to seniors last year and now they have multiple titles to maintain—and Victor and Vasilisa are hanging out with Chris and Vreni.

What happens is this: the four of them are relaxing in Chris' hotel room, Chris and Victor watching some trashy movie, Vreni and Vasilisa curled up together at the foot of the bed—Vreni a complementary black leopard to Vasilisa's snow—when Chris cracks a joke, and Victor laughs.

Victor laughs, and Vasilisa startles with the force of its brightness, its happiness; the force of emotion she hasn't felt in—in years.

Vreni licks her nose questioningly, and Vasilisa gives her a reassuring lick back, even though her mind is spinning.

* * *

Vasilisa is nineteen when Yakov sends them to therapy. Vasilisa doesn’t like it and Victor hates it, but Yakov threatened to revoke rink access, and at the moment, there's not much else that Victor really cares about.

Yakov, at least, has them figured out.

* * *

Vasilisa is twenty-two when it all comes to a head.

It's not a competition; it's not even warm-up for one. It's just a normal practice. It's Victor and two others on the ice, Georgi and Sergei, who's rumored to be retiring at the end of this season. Yakov is talking Georgi through a step sequence, Sergei is practicing some edgework, and Victor is supposed to be working on his spins.

Vasilisa feels the moment Victor decides he wants to work on his jumps, instead.

She sits up, watching—the first few go fine, but then there's the point, the minor shift of balance before the entry, and both Vasilisa and Victor know he shouldn't follow through with the jump.

He does anyways.

When he lands, it's wrong—too close to the back of his blade, too far on the outside edge—Victor's blade catches on the ice even as his body crashes down, and for a moment, Vasilisa think she's going to fly to a much smaller Victor, crumpled and bloody on the ice, before she remembers that she's only ever had paws for the last decade, and scrabbles her way across the ice to him.

He went down without a shout, and it's only the tears on his face and the near-blinding pain in her own hind leg that lets her know just how badly he's injured.

Vasilisa licks tears from Victor's face as he lies there, prone, and once it's clear that Victor has no intentions of summoning help for himself, Vasilisa raises her head.

She doesn't speak often—finds she has no need to, not really—and so her voice is raspy when she calls out.

"Yakov!"

Yakov turns, and when he sees Victor on the ice, he goes white.

 

Victor is in the hospital soon enough, Vasilisa beside him. They're slated for surgery tomorrow, to repair a broken bone in Victor's foot.

"Vassya," Victor says, and Vasilisa uncurls herself from the ball she's formed next to him to meet his gaze. "If I give you some coins, can you go to the vending machine and get me something?" Vasilisa blinks at him.

_I can try._

So Victor gives her some coins and orders her to get the most egregiously out-of-his-meal-plan food she can find, and when Vasilisa pads out into the hallway, coins held delicately in her mouth, it's blessedly empty.

She's painstakingly using her mouth and her paws to slot the coins into the machine when she feels Victor reach out through their bond, and she pauses. Victor so rarely does so.

_Vassya?_

_Yes?_

_You can hear me, right?_

_…of course._

_I… well. Good. Can you—is there any chocolate?_

_Yes. Milk and dark._

_Milk, please._

_I'll be there soon._

_…thank you._

Vasilisa manages to wrangle the rest of the coins into the slot and carefully tap out the right number for the small bar of chocolate. She yanks it out of the drop with her claws and leaves the change, trotting back to Victor's room with the bar held in her mouth like a trophy.

When she pushes the door open, Victor's crying.

Vasilisa springs onto the bed, cautious of Victor's foot, and drops the chocolate in his lap before forcibly hugging him.

"Oh, Vitya," she says, and doesn't ask what's wrong, because she can feel his roiling emotions, foremost of which is—

"Vassochka, I'm so sorry," Victor says, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight, and all Vasilisa can think is finally, _finally—_

"I'm so sorry," Victor repeats, sobbing into her fur. "I'm so sorry, I was—I thought—you know what they say, about humans and daemons who are separated, and I—"

"Shh, shh," Vasilisa replies,  as Victor's sobs turn wordless. "I'm sorry too, for—for not being there as much as I should have been." This only makes Victor cry harder, and Vasilisa presses herself closer to him, wishing that her form would allow her to cry as well.

* * *

Vasilisa's twenty-five before she fully accepts that some days will just _be bad_ , and there isn't much she can do about that. That anyone can do about that, for that matter. Most days, Victor wanders through in a haze of emptiness, despite all the efforts of everyone around him.

Makkachin still gets them out of bed in the morning; her needing to eat reminds Victor that he's on a meal plan, and needs to eat as well.

Even the ice, once a surefire way of at least eliciting _some_ emotion out of Victor, doesn't manage to break through the fog of his worst days.

It pains Vasilisa to see, but there's so little she can do to help; the haze comes for her as often as it comes for Victor, now.

Sometimes, though, there are bright days. Victor offers to create a program for one of Yakov's junior skaters on one of those days—he sees the skill there, looks forward to seeing it grow.

Occasionally they do activities as a rink of senior skaters—Victor, Georgi, Mila, and all their daemons, all out together for a movie or a brunch that flies in the face of their supposed athletic diets. Sometimes Chris and Vreni join them (Vreni has expressed, many times, concern for them both; Vasilisa does her best to tell Vreni that they're dealing, without sharing too much. Vasilisa thinks that Vreni and Chris are too observant to not know what's wrong).

There are also a few bad days, when Victor hates the world and everything in it. Usually, through the combined hugs of Makkachin and Vasilisa both, they get through these.

But most days. Most days are spent in that awful depressive haze; just going through the motions, pretending at living. They keep going to therapy, because sometimes it helps, and they keep winning, because Victor's fake smile is enough to fool everyone into believing he still loves what he does.

But there, where emotions should be, is just…

…void.

* * *

Vasilisa is twenty-six when Victor becomes five-time Grand Prix champion, and she's twenty-six when, at the mind-numbingly boring banquet afterwards, she meets a tipsy fox daemon with a pelt as white as ice.

* * *

Vasilisa's twenty-seven when she and Victor move to Japan and fall, quickly and irrevocably, in love.

It's not perfect, and sometimes it's hard, and some days the haze still comes and muffles everything—but now, Victor and Vasilisa have something they haven't had for almost twenty years.

Life, and love.


End file.
